The State Series
by Mary4
Summary: JD's journey from each state to a higher state of chaos.
1. Chaos: Pittsburgh

Chaos  
Pittsburgh  
  
In the beginning, there were three. J.D., Sandra, and Susie. It all   
started innocently enough. They were considered too different to fit into any   
high school social group. They all wore too much black, listened to too much   
heavy metal, and acted too much like individuals.  
Jason came to this school wearing a v-neck sweater, oxford shirt and   
khakis. His parents wanted him to fit in. He thought they were crazy if they   
thought this would help him fit in, or that he wanted to fit in. At first, he   
did want that. This was their first move. He had left the home he had known all   
his life, and left a lot of people behind, and he had hoped to recover some of   
that comfort, but the people here were different, and that made him different.   
He would walk down the hallway and be bumped into and nearly knocked over by   
almost everyone that passed. They didn't even have to ignore him. Why would you   
have to ignore something you don't even know exists?  
Then, one day, he was passing a stairwell and noticed the light from a   
nearby window shining down on her. He got a little bit closer without her   
knowing he was there. He felt drawn to her, which he thought was crazy. He   
didn't even know this girl. He had never even seen her in any of his classes or   
walking the halls, and he would have remembered seeing her. She had long,   
platinum blond hair, and very fair skin. She was shorter than most girls, but   
that did not seem to be a problem for her. She was wearing a black trenchcoat   
that practically swallowed her body like a cape, but as she leaned back against   
the wall, the trench hung behind her and revealed her intense figure. She was   
wearing a hot pink, low-cut blouse, and tight black jeans. Her lips were pale   
pink and her eyes were the most incredible blue-green. She didn't cake her face   
with make-up like every other girl in school, because she had the natural beauty   
they didn't. He was struck speechless. He didn't dare move. He was afraid she   
would realize he was staring at her.  
People passed by her as they came and went from the staircase, but they   
didn't ignore her. You couldn't possibly not notice someone like her. She looked   
dark, but there was a luminescence that you could see was inside her just by   
looking at her face. Everyone gave her nasty glares and disgusted noises as they   
passed, as if they were trying to put her in her place, show her that she   
doesn't deserve their attention. Ironically enough, that's exactly what they   
gave her. You'd guess they hated her for having that light inside her because   
they were so completely ordinary and she was just unbelievably extraordinary,   
and without any of the bullshit they needed to feel that way.  
She glanced up quickly, staring in Jason's direction, then her eyes   
narrowed, her teeth clenched, and his body stiffened in fear and embarrassment.   
"What the fuck are you looking at?" She barked the words as if he was a predator   
stalking her, her voice so full of hatred and fury for something so beautiful   
and delicate-looking.  
He was about to make some sort of pathetic attempt to explain how he   
didn't mean to stare and that he was just curious, and maybe if she wasn't too   
pissed off, ask what her name was. Before he could get past nervous stuttering a   
voice called out from behind him and scared the shit out of him. "What am I   
looking at?"  
"Yeah! What? Are you deaf? I said what the fuck are you looking at?"  
"Something frightening!" This asshole and his lemming buddies started   
laughing, but their laughter came to an abrupt halt when she started laughing   
too. Her soft, bubbly laugh swelled and rose to fill the whole hallway, and it   
got the football players' blood boiling to see her laughing it up.  
She reached inside her coat and pulled out a six-shooter. Then she gave   
them a complacent smile and spoke to reveal her true sultry, soft voice. "How's   
this for something frightening." Her voice was so innocent and velvety, he could   
barely believe it. He was so enraptured by her presence and her courage to pull   
a stunt like that, he hardly noticed the amusing way everyone fled clumsily and   
panicky, revealing the true people they were on the inside. Jason was the only   
one left in the hallway and she did not seem to have noticed him, until now.  
"Well..." She seemed to be saying she was aware he had been staring at her   
incessantly. She replaced the gun as she spoke, then gazed up at him as he   
warily approached her. He had not even been scared by the fact that she was   
carelessly wielding a lethal weapon. All he could think was how impressed he was   
by her, by her strong sense of self. She knew exactly who she was. She must   
never have been told what to think, or say, or wear by anyone. Her opinion was   
the only one that mattered to her. He thought of how perfect society and teenage   
life would be if we could all be like that. "How's the view?"  
He was lost for words. He couldn't begin to express all these thoughts   
swirling around his head, let alone to the person he was thinking them about.   
"I...I'm sorry...I...It's amazing."  
She gave a sincere bubbly giggle as he imagined only she could. He   
couldn't see how anyone else in the world could make that kind of sound when   
they laughed. It was enchanting. "Thank you."  
"Color me impressed. I could never carry a gun to school, nevermind pull   
off something like that."  
"It's nothing. Guns don't bother me as much as they used to. There's much   
worse things in the world. I mean, fuck guns, high school itself'll kill ya.   
Besides, it's not even loaded. You can't get into any real trouble if the gun   
isn't even loaded."  
"Well, you can't get in trouble if no one knows, either. I won't tell   
anyone." He was grinning rather deviously, but he wasn't too aware of it. He was   
coming off as smooth and confident, two things he never was.  
"What a wonderful philosophy. Thanks for bein' such a sweetheart because   
you could've been a real dick." She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her   
coat pocket and placed one between her lips. He thought she just did it to draw   
attention to her lips. Even if she didn't, it worked. "Cigarette?" She extended   
the box towards him, offering him the chance to join her, and he was really   
beginning to regret the fact that he didn't smoke. He wasn't even sure he could   
if he tried.  
"No, thanks."  
She lit the cigarette and took a long, deep puff, then took the cigarette   
between her fingers and held it at her side, exhaling the smoke in rings.   
"Unfortunately, I don't think your vow of silence will do me any good. A hallway   
full of people just saw me with it, so I'll probably get busted again."  
"What? Like jail?"  
"Nah. I've done stuff like this a couple other times, and I never got   
arrested. I'll just get suspended for a couple days, a week if I'm lucky."  
The bell rang, and though he hated to leave, he knew he should. School   
society he didn't care for, school itself was important to him, however. He was   
good at school. He was very smart. All his teachers said he could do anything if   
he put his mind to it, though he doubted the truth in that. He had to go. If he   
didn't have a test in biology he would skip, which he never did, but he would   
have for her. "I...ugh...I have to go. I've got this test, but I'll see you   
around." He thought how conversations that end with those words are usually   
people who never speak after that or even see each other. He wanted her to know   
who he was, and he wanted her to remember him, so that wouldn't happen. "I'm--"  
"Jason Dean. I know." She gave him a sweet, knowing smile. He was blown   
away by the mere idea that she knew his name. She knew who he was. She just saw   
him and knew who he was. The thought was too perfect to fully comprehend. He had   
no idea how she knew his name, but he was thrilled that she did. He had class   
though, and so he hesitantly departed up the stairs, glancing back at her every   
chance he got until she was no longer visible. Just like that, they met.  
  
  
That night, Jason had just said good night to his parents, and was ready   
to turn out the light and go to bed. No sooner had he turned out the last lamp   
in his room, than he was startled by a loud knock on his window. He did not know   
what to make of the situation at first. He wondered if it was a tree branch,   
someone playing around, or his imagination. He had no friends here yet, since   
they hadn't been here long enough to really know anyone. Then when he did   
nothing, the knock came again, louder and more impatient. He carefully drew back   
the curtain and saw the girl from the hallway standing outside his first floor   
window. It was her! How the hell did she find him? What the hell was she doing   
here? There was only one way he could find out. He slid the window open, and   
without even saying a word, she climbed inside, and stood in the middle of the   
room directly in front of him, as though it were the most natural thing in the   
world.  
"Hi." He meant it more as a question than a greeting.  
"Hello, Jason Dean!" She suddenly seemed to be lacking words for the   
situation, showing a small amount of awkwardness, which actually made him feel   
more relaxed.  
"Greetings and Salutations!" It was something silly to say since she was   
acting a bit silly herself, but she smiled when he said it. He wondered if maybe   
he should say that more often. He found her smile exhilarating. He was possessed   
by her. He figured someone should break the silence and get through the initial   
uneasiness. "Why are you here? How did you even know where I live? How did you   
know my name? I guess the big question is do you have a boyfriend?" He   
immediately regretted having said that. He sounded like he was being way too   
forward, and by the look on her face, and the little laugh she let out, he could   
tell she thought he was being very forward.  
"You get right to the point, don't you."  
"Well, in all fairness, I don't know anything about you, but you know an   
awful lot about me and you're knocking at my window and climbing into my bedroom   
at twelve o'clock at night."  
"Touché"  
"I think it's safe to say you're being a bit more forward than I am at   
this point."  
"Okay, ask me again, one by one." She seemed very coy, and equally   
impressed with him as he had been with her earlier that day.  
"Why are you here?"  
"Because you live here."  
"How did you know where I live?"  
"I followed you home."  
"How did you know my name?"  
"Because you seem like a nice guy."  
"Do you have a boyfriend?"  
She hesitated, glanced away, then with her eyes fixed on the floor, she   
spoke very softly and delicately. "Ask me that one again a little bit later."  
"Then, what are you doing here?" He kept thinking of what he wanted her to   
say. He wanted to hear that she wanted him like he wanted her. He wanted her to   
say that she hasn't been able to stop thinking about him. He kept trying to   
elicit those type of responses from her, but she resisted. It was the first   
forward effort he had ever made towards a girl. Usually, he was too shy to   
really approach them, but she was different. They could be different together.   
It was all he could think about.  
"You want me to go?" She seemed defensive, as though she felt she wasn't   
wanted. She did not want to give him the kind of response he was prying for.  
"No." His voice was heavy with guilt and frustration. "I'm sorry. I didn't   
mean to make it sound like..." He trailed off, thinking of how he shouldn't have   
pushed. He felt he was searching for what he wanted to see, not what was really   
there. Maybe she wasn't interested in him at all and he was being an asshole. At   
least, he felt like one.  
"No, I'm sorry. I just...It's just that I don't climb into some stranger's   
bedroom window every day."  
"That's good." He sounded relieved that this was not something she did for   
everyone, just him. She was an enigma to him. She was a chaotic creature,   
baffling at that. She was extreme, and that is what made her first impression   
upon him. "But why me?" Part of him had to know why she was so taken with him.  
"I was attracted to you when I first saw you walking the halls," she   
whispered as she closed the gap between them, "but I figured you were just like   
the rest of them. Then, you talked to me today in the hall, and I wanted to come   
by to see if you were serious."  
"Serious about what?"  
"About being my friend. About spending time with me. About who you seemed   
to be, or if that you was just an act."  
"You're awfully suspicious."  
"You can't trust people. Almost nobody is who they seem to be. I liked who   
you were, and I want to know if that's the real you, or if you're just another   
one of those jock assholes like Kerri." Jason assumed she meant the asshole who   
provoked her to draw the gun this afternoon. He thought she was a little   
paranoid, but he was impressed with her honesty as he was with everything else   
about her.  
"No, this is me. Jason Dean is just some invisible nobody whose life   
couldn't be more boring or lonely. How about you?"  
"You don't want to know."  
"Of course, I do. I wouldn't ask if I didn't want to know."  
"No, I mean it. Some people say that because they think it's worse than   
everyone else's life could possibly be. I say it because I mean it. You don't   
want to know anything about me. You don't need to know anything about me before   
this moment."  
"Before this moment?"  
"Well, yeah. Anything that happens from now on, you're going to be there   
for, right?" She obviously meant she wanted him around her long-term, and that   
was good enough for him to hear.  
"Can I at least know your name?"  
"As of this moment, it's Sandra."  
"As of this moment?"  
"Well, you're gonna hear everyone calling me Kristen, but I'm changing it   
when I'm 18. Sandra's what my best friend, Susie calls me, so to you, it's   
Sandra." He knew it would be a futile effort to inquire as to why she wanted to   
change it, so he didn't bother. Besides, she was busy staring into his hazel-  
green eyes. He was already losing his train of thought, when she moved in close   
enough that he felt the warmth of her breath on his neck. She gazed deep into   
his eyes with a sultry stare. She whispered to him in the silence of the blue-  
black darkness. "J.D." No one had ever called him that before, but coming from   
her, it sounded so cool. She finally pressed her lips against his sweetly and   
sensually. Everything happened so fast after that. Somehow, they had managed to   
make it to his bed without realizing how they did it. It came so natural to   
them. They were both only fifteen, virgins at that. He gave his heart and soul   
to her that night. While they were lying in each other's arms afterwards, their   
heads swirled with thoughts of how perfect everything was and how perfect they   
would be together. Finally, they weren't alone in more ways than one. That   
night, J.D. was born.  
  
  
So, there were the three of them. Them against the entire school society   
and everything they stood for, but they weren't fighting a war. They were just   
being themselves, which was a concept so revolutionary and foreign to the others   
in the school it was practically unheard of, and unacceptable. Susie wasn't   
around much at first. J.D. knew her as Sandra's best friend, and little more.   
She was different from Sandra. She wore different clothes and styles, but they   
were just as strange to everyone else. She was always told she looked like   
trailer trash with her cut-off jeans and her vampire red hair with brown roots   
and ends, black eye make-up and dark lipstick. J.D. didn't see anything wrong   
with it. Susie was no less a real person than Sandra. He liked having her around   
the two of them. Between the three of them, they had some wild times, plenty of   
fun, and best of all, nothing else in the world mattered. There was just the   
three of them in the entire world. They had schedules. J.D. would meet Susie   
after first period, then go pick up Sandra on the other side of the school to   
cut second period. It was during such a cut that Sandra got J.D. to smoke his   
first cigarette. He liked the changes that she had inspired in him, and was   
happier being the person he had become. He felt it was his true self, but Sandra   
was always his better self. They overcame jock assholes like Kerri and his   
puppets. They felt like they were invincible. Then, as J.D. had expected, he   
discovered it was not meant to last. Something happened.  
  
  
J.D. was in his sixth period biology class, when it happened. He was   
nearly falling asleep at his desk, when a commotion arose in the hallway. A girl   
was screaming and it was getting closer. J.D. could only wonder what the hell   
was going on now. Probably the bitches of the school causing trouble again,   
traumatizing some poor victim of theirs, just like the assholes did, only with   
that feminine touch.  
The door to J.D.'s classroom burst open and startled everyone, but J.D.   
was suddenly petrified when he saw who it was. It was Sandra, her face wet with   
tears, but her eyes were in a trance and she wasn't crying. She probably cried   
until she couldn't cry anymore. That wasn't even what was so alarming. J.D.'s   
biggest fear came from what shocked everyone else as the entire class fell   
silent looking upon Sandra standing at the front of the classroom, not wearing   
any clothes. J.D. stood up as soon as his fear stopped keeping him from moving.  
He was terrified of what was going on. He rushed to her, wanting to know   
why she was running around school completely naked. He removed his trenchcoat   
and wrapped it around her, gently guiding her out of the classroom. Everyone was   
staring at her, some of the perverts thrilled at her appearance nude, thinking   
she was an exhibitionist or something. J.D. knew Sandra and he knew something   
had gone horribly wrong. He hadn't noticed any bruises or cuts, so she seemed to   
be physically alright. Maybe those assholes had stripped her clothes off to   
humiliate her or something, in which case, they would pay. J.D. swore whoever   
did this to her would be punished for it.  
He led her down the hall amidst a gathering of spectators he casually   
turned to and screamed, "What the fuck are you looking at? Fuck off!" He   
gathered her up in his arms and carried her out of the school and to the parking   
lot, stopping by a payphone, anticipating he would have to call the police.   
"Sandra. Sandra? Can you hear me? Sandra, are you okay? Sandra, who did this to   
you? Sandra, please!" He was pleading with her to arrive at some form of   
coherent consciousness. At this point, she was practically catatonic.  
"J.D.?" She seemed barely aware he was holding her close to him, trying to   
protect her from what had already happened.  
"Yeah, it's me. Sandra? Sandra, who did this to you?"  
"J.D., I love you. Have I ever told you that?"  
"Sandra." He was too set on finding out who did this to realize the full   
meaning of what she had said. It almost wasn't heard at all.  
"Have I?"  
"No, you haven't." His tone was morbid.  
"I do. I always have."  
"I've always loved you, too. I always will love you." He hated feeling so   
helpless. He wanted to take action, not think about how awful this was. "Sandra,   
what happened?"  
"He raped me, J.D. That fucking asshole Kerri fucking raped me."  
J.D. was burning with hatred on the inside, but right now he needed to   
take care of Sandra, and the first important step in doing so was getting her to   
the hospital, then calling the police. That was exactly what he did. People came   
and went, offering their pity, their help, or their cold shoulder. The ambulance   
came and sped her away from him.  
J.D. was waiting for the bus to the hospital so he could follow Sandra. He   
hated being away from her, especially at a time like this. He hated the idea of   
her being alone, which is why he stayed with her instead of go to kill Kerri. Of   
course, Kerri hadn't been seen since fourth period, so no one knew where he was,   
but J.D. would track him down wherever he was. He felt so helpless, it was   
driving him crazy. Just when he thought he couldn't take being alone and knowing   
Sandra was alone at this moment, Susie walked up to him. He called out to her   
before she even reached him.  
"I assume you heard." His tone was biting, raging with no outlet.  
"Everyone's heard. I assume you know."  
"Know what specifically?"  
"Kerri'll never be charged. His father fucking runs this town. He's got   
the cops in his fucking back pocket. I should know." Susie was having a hard   
time with a cop that kept harassing her. The way she talked about it, you'd   
think the cops Susie got arrested by tended to develop crushes on her. She   
always wound up in the custody of a bad cop. According to Susie, she moved here   
to get away from that one cop who wouldn't leave her alone. She was pretty   
street smart for someone born and raised in the Florida everglades. Her   
independence was probably what gave her her strength and sense of self that   
Sandra loved about her so much.  
"You mean that asshole's gonna get away with this?"  
"J.D., it's not your fault. You didn't know. They're not gonna do anything   
for her at that hospital, except lock her up in the fucking psycho ward!"  
"What are you talking about? Why would they do that?"  
"Because she's been there before. Did Sandra ever tell you why she has   
such a hard time sleeping? It's because Kristen couldn't sleep for three months.   
They had to lock her up in a mental institution because she was having   
nightmares, and they were fucking with her head. No one's gonna believe she was   
raped by Kerri Riley, especially considering who his father is."  
"Susie, she was fucking raped! There's evidence--"  
"J.D., Kerri is fucking smarter than that. He's fucking captain of the   
football team! Do you really think he's gonna leave any evidence that could get   
him thrown in jail? Kerri probably won't even be back in school for a couple   
weeks, because conveniently enough, he and his parents are going on vacation   
today, so he even has a fucking alibi. Sandra's word doesn't mean shit, not at   
school and not to the cops."  
All J.D. could do was sit there quietly, waiting for the bus with Susie,   
wondering how they could have deserved this. He realized they didn't deserve it.   
It was everyone else who deserved to suffer. He just kept thinking of poor   
Sandra, wondering if she was okay, where she was, what she was thinking. He   
heard her over and over, like a broken record. "J.D., I love you." Like she knew   
she was saying good-bye.  
  
  
J.D. visited Sandra in the psycho ward at the hospital every day for two   
weeks. She was catatonic, not even a hint of her former self. J.D. tried to   
discover some trace of her lying dormant within her silent shell, but nothing   
stirred in her. She sat and stared into empty space. The last time he saw her,   
she glanced right into his eyes, catching him off guard, and whispered, "I love   
you."  
J.D. was just getting out of class, recalling those three words from   
Sandra's mouth when he had visited her yesterday. He glanced around on his way   
out, knowing Kerri should be showing his fucking face any day now. Anger and   
rage stemmed inside him from seeing every one of Susie's predictions come true.   
She was a smart girl and tough too. Sandra had been that tough, and it hurt J.D.   
more than he ever thought he could be hurt to think how weak she was now. His   
mind was on Sandra when Susie waved him down from across the parking lot. J.D.   
trudged over to her, his mind weighted down with his worries, his pain, his   
hate, his love. Everything consumed him at once. Then he got a closer look at   
Susie's face. Her black eyeliner was smeared all over her cheeks and her wet   
face was eerily reminiscent of Sandra's when she first appeared after that   
fucker raped her.  
"Susie? Are you alright?"  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Her voice cracked as she choked on her uncontrollable   
tears. Her hazel eyes alone told the sad story that was coming. Something else   
had happened. What could possibly happen now? J.D. was sick of these surprises,   
the way they tormented him, the way chaos reigned supreme and worked against   
them instead of for them. If he could harness chaos, he'd direct it to where it   
should have been in the first place. J.D. always liked chaos theory because it   
warned against predictability, but maybe he could use that to his advantage one   
day. Now he was still wondering what chaos had done to make Susie so upset.  
"Not Sandra?" He was pleading more than asking. He did not want her to   
suffer any worse than she already had. She was locked up in a psycho ward with   
her rapist on vacation and going uncharged and unpunished.  
"J.D...." She wanted to say something, but was more afraid of how he'd   
react than of what had actually happened.  
"What, Susie? Come on, Susie, don't do this to me! What is it?"  
"I'm so sorry, J.D."  
"Sorry for what? What happened? Will you just tell me already!"  
She hesitated one more moment, then decided she should just say it,   
because there was really no other way of going about it. "Sandra killed herself   
in the hospital last night." She paused, trying to give him a chance to react,   
but nothing. "J.D., she's gone."  
"That's impossible. Sandra wouldn't take her own fucking life!"  
"What kind of life is living in a psycho ward, J.D. She'd take her life if   
she didn't fucking have one!" She knew she was being harsh, but J.D. needed to   
be able to accept this as reality, and not think he was going to wake up   
tomorrow and she'd be at his side ready to sneak out before his parent's knocked   
on his door."They weren't gonna let her out of there. They wanted to transfer   
her to a mental institution back east. She resisted, and found an alternative   
solution when no one would listen to her. She couldn't take that shit. I'm   
sorry, but that's what happened. I just wanted to tell you, so you'd hear it   
from me, and not some asshole or some stupid bitch. I'm really sorry, J.D."  
  
  
J.D. had been in tears the first few days and then he just stopped talking   
to anyone, kept staying home from school, blocking out the rest of the world.   
This would be the first time he'd been out of the house in a week. He decided   
he'd go out and get the mail, since his father was expecting a package and no   
one else was home. His parents understood his mourning. After all, how would you   
expect a fifteen year-old to act after all this bullshit. He opened the mailbox,   
stuck his hand inside, and pulled out a single piece of mail. The only thing   
that was there was a postcard, probably from one of his father's business   
associates. The postcard had a picture of Los Angeles on it that made it look   
like paradise, a beautiful beach with waves crashing down on the shore. Peace,   
and no chaos. Only man can create the kind of chaos that would produce these   
kinds of scars. J.D. hated thinking like this, but he was becoming more and more   
accustomed to it. He and Susie were both confining themselves to their homes,   
and tomorrow they would both be returning to school together, braving the storm   
as the two left of the three they had been. J.D. flipped the postcard over to   
see who it was from, but the back was blank. Nothing, except his address typed   
out on a label. J.D.'s eyes lifted from the blank postcard as the thought crept   
into his head. It was her. Los Angeles. She got out. She escaped. That's where   
she is. He stood perfectly still as the breeze engulfed him. She was alive.  
  
  
J.D. was walking the hallway, escorting Susie to class on their first day   
back. Together they were able to block out the whispering and the staring, and   
just be themselves again. It helped both of them to find out that the other had   
received the exact same blank postcard. They were still missing half of each of   
them though, a part that would not be coming back, that couldn't come back, a   
part that wasn't dead, but was lost to them. They continued as if nothing had   
changed. They wouldn't let on to a single soul, not even Sandra's parents. J.D.   
said good-bye to Susie as she walked into her classroom, then as he turned to   
continue to his own class, he spotted him. J.D. walked down the hallway towards   
him carefully, staring coldly at him the whole time, passing him like a lion   
stalking it's prey. J.D. worked his way through the crowd, never taking his eyes   
off him, watching him, like a predator. His prey didn't even know he was there.   
J.D. passed him, keeping his eyes on the fucker, stalking the mouse. The hunted   
laughing with his friends surrounding him, not even noticing the hunter   
patrolling the corridor. J.D. kept his eye fixed on him straight up until he   
turned the corner, and then he was gone from his sight. Safe, for the moment,   
but not for long.  
  
  
  
  
(c)Mary Catherine Paul, 2000 


	2. Eskimo: Michigan

Eskimo:  
Michigan  
By Mary C. Paul  
  
"I can't talk to you people, and I'm certainly   
not going to a shrink!" That was the one thing he   
remembered most vividly about that argument. His   
mother suggested he go to a psychiatrist. His father   
shook his head and laughed the whole time,   
demonstrating his inability to take anything his   
mother said seriously. He didn't think his son needed   
to see a shrink, but his son's mother did not believe   
he was fine at all. He just had to go along with it   
until J.D. predictably showed his immense disapproval   
and ended the entire argument for them. He hated   
being in the middle, so did his father, but his   
father hated it because he thought everything was   
fine. J.D. hated it because he knew everything was   
far from being fine. He knew how screwed up things   
were, but he refused to let anyone else notice, or   
worse yet, intervene.  
Now he was...Where was he now anyway? He didn't   
even know where he was. He couldn't remember the   
state, and he couldn't think where he was sitting   
thinking about all this nonsense. Well, the state was   
a mystery, but he figured out where he was now. He   
was in the boiler room. It was the only place that he   
was ever left alone. No one came down there. No   
teachers, no teenagers. The perfect hiding place was   
all his. The best source of solitude he could hope to   
find. Home away from home. Not that he had a home.   
His father was booked solid years in advance. After   
everywhere they had already been, they still had   
Texas, Kansas, Ohio, and California. At least, that   
was as far ahead as he could remember. There were   
plenty others after, and maybe even a few in between   
he had forgotten. Hell, there were ones he had been   
to he had already forgotten. Then, there were ones he   
couldn't forget, like Pennsylvania, Nevada, and   
others too numerous to mention, even in thought. The   
ones he remembered most vividly were the ones he   
wished most he could forget.  
That loud, obnoxious bell rang and even pierced   
the bowels of this cavernous boiler room. Classes   
were changing. He couldn't remember which classes he   
was cutting either. He knew he was cutting to smoke,   
but smoking turned into thinking, and thinking turned   
into sleeping, and sleeping--sleeping turned into   
nightmares.  
  
  
"What are you doing?"  
"What does it look like I'm doing?"   
That was a stupid question. It looked like she   
was cleaning blood off her hands in the school   
drinking fountain. "Jesus!"  
She was unfazed by the blood. As far as she was   
concerned, it came right off with no problems. "Don't   
worry. It's not mine." Her voice was soft and velvety   
with a gentle femininity to it that did not seem to   
belong to her. Her voice was like a disguise. A wolf   
in sheep's clothing, if you wanted to be cliché. It   
was so perfect. Cool, calm, calculated.  
He smiled a baffled smile at her. "Whose is   
it?"  
She stopped washing her hands, and gazed up at   
him with those incredible light blue-green eyes. She   
smiled at him as if that were his stupidest question   
yet, and let out a mildly amused chuckle. She looked   
at him like he should have known. "Yours."  
  
  
Wake up, J.D. Why was he thinking about her?   
Why was he dreaming about her? She was states ago!   
Maybe it was because she started this. If it weren't   
for her, he wouldn't be drifting back and forth   
constantly crossing the boundaries of insanity and   
then suddenly crossing back. When he first arrived   
somewhere, he'd go to school like any normal person,   
dressed like one of the assholes with some inane   
desire to be accepted into the new society of his new   
surroundings. It never happened. It always failed,   
and he would immediately put an end to the nice guy   
act. He'd break out the bike, the trench, the   
earring--the works.  
He'd become an entirely different person   
without warning. He then got more attention than he   
ever received trying to blend in, but it was always   
from assholes, or the reigning bitches of the school.   
Every now and then, he'd be randomly approached by   
some beautiful young girl who thought he was dark and   
broodingly sexy like this. Of course, none of them   
ever approached him before he broke out the gear that   
made him look like a rebel. He'd have a brief fling   
every once in a while, but he never looked for it.   
None of them would ever be her. None of them really   
gave a shit either. When he told them he was leaving,   
they'd shrug it off, and before he was even packed,   
they'd be all cozy with someone else. It never   
failed! Everywhere he went, the same bullshit.   
Nothing was ever different except for his locker   
combination.  
He'd get worried every now and then, because   
he'd find himself going further over the edge, and   
crossing the line of insanity more and more often. He   
knew if he crossed it enough times, or ever went too   
far, the line would disappear forever. He didn't   
worry so much about it when he was crossing the line.   
It was when his mother started worrying about him   
that he made a conscious effort to step back from the   
brink of losing his mind. Then, they'd move, and the   
cycle would start all over again. He had dozens of   
chances to reinvent himself, and he always wound up   
on the same two-step program. Of course, there was   
more to his insanity than just acting insane. There   
was shit from the past that he tried not to drudge   
up, but that was too much and too personal.  
Where was he again? Oh, yeah. Boiler room. The   
bell rang. He looked at his watch, and it turned out   
he slept through the remainder of his classes. It was   
time to go home. He picked himself up off the floor,   
climbed the steps, and entered the halls. They were   
crowded with petty teenagers consumed by petty   
bullshit. The second he walked out of the boiler   
room, they started staring. Strength. He needed to be   
strong. He ignored them all. He walked down the   
hallway with a cool, indifferent air about him, and a   
deliberate glare in his eyes that drove fear into the   
minds of everyone he passed, but some of them just   
didn't respond well to fear. They liked to laugh it   
in the face, and if they were going to laugh at J.D.   
in his face, they had better have been prepared to   
reap the consequences.  
All around him were the whispers of just such   
people. People begging to be screwed with to end   
their taunts once and for all. He could hear some of   
them practically scream it in his face. "Fuckin'   
faggot." "Who the fuck does he think he is!" "Let's   
kick his ass." Like he always said, nothing changed.   
All those states and all those schools, and they   
couldn't even come up with anything different or any   
new lame-ass thing to say. He remembered he brought   
his gun--more gear he'd stop bringing, then start   
bringing again.  
If they were so anxious to kick his ass, why   
didn't they try it. Nine times out of ten, the   
assholes were all talk, but there was that one that   
always came along that would genuinely want to start   
shit and wind up running away after pissing his   
pants. He got off on it, an incredibly inflated sense   
of self-esteem and power. Very intense. Moving around   
a lot, getting left back because he was always   
cutting--not that he wasn't smart, because he was   
brilliant, a legend in his own mind--and living life   
alone. All those problems went away when he got high   
on this feeling. Otherwise, he was just a faceless   
person in a crowd full of faces. The jocks, the prom   
queens, the cliques, the geeks, the outcasts, and the   
cool kids. He wasn't a part of any one of those   
groups and he wouldn't want to be. If he wasn't J.D.,   
who was he? He was a lost, scared teenager alone,   
isolated and locked out in the cold to die. But not   
now. Now he was a powerful god against the world, and   
the world was losing. They were all pitiful from the   
height of this power trip he was on, and damn, that   
strength felt good.  
He was approaching the glass doors out of the   
school, when one of the dickheads decided to step   
forward as asshole of the day and block his exit. He   
raised a single eyebrow at this guy's blatant display   
of arrogance. He obviously had no respect for a   
psycho when he saw one. That was fine by J.D. though.   
He would teach him respect.  
"Are you gonna move, or you want me to move   
ya?" J.D. gave the impression that he didn't give a   
shit, but this intimidation game was going over well   
with Mr. Captain of the football team.  
"Do you have any idea who I am, faggot?"  
"An asshole would be my first guess. Are you   
gonna move?" Very calm, cold, calculated. As usual.   
In this situation, J.D. could scare the shit out of   
anyone with brains. Brains being the operative word   
since it was never applicable to the one out of every   
ten that was stupid enough to pull stunts like this.  
"Nah, I'm gonna stay right here. I wanna see   
you move me."  
J.D. raised an eyebrow and let out one of his   
deepest, darkest laughs. "Well, if you insist." J.D.   
reached around this guy's arm, grabbed the door   
handle and yanked the door open as hard as he could,   
using every muscle in his body. The dickhead ducked   
and fell through it as it smashed against his back   
and shattered in the way that safety glass breaks   
into thousands of tiny pieces. Fragments scratched   
his face, and his head, and even got into his eye as   
the frame of the door swept his feet out from under   
him, knocking him back through the breaking glass. It   
came crumbling down on top of him with the whole   
school watching from behind J.D., who was standing   
perfectly still, watching in satisfaction with   
unwavering pride that he had taken down one of the   
many tyrants in the school. Blood was dripping down   
his face, and he was whining and weeping like a   
pathetically helpless baby. "Dreadful etiquette, I   
apologize." J.D. smirked down at him just as he   
stepped over him and through the now open door,   
leaving as though he had no problem, no   
confrontation, only gratification that is so potent   
it could only have come from shoving an asshole in   
his place.  
He walked the entire distance home. His bike   
was in the shop. Some asshole, whose identity   
remained unknown had run him off the road a few days   
ago, but that was fine by J.D., because he would be   
prepared next time someone screwed with his bike. He   
had been prepared other times in other states and it   
always turned the tables in his favor. He was   
practically high on the feeling, like he was   
immortal, and couldn't be touched.  
He was crossing a major highway in the middle   
of the street, without a streetlight, without a stop   
sign, cars flying by at light speed, but only one   
came close to hitting him. The man stopped his car   
inches from hitting J.D., but J.D. just stood there   
and glared at the driver like it were his fault. He   
casually strolled up to the driver's side window,   
leaned down and spoke with that raspy voice in a   
perfectly rational-sounding tone. "Here's how it   
works. I walk. You stop. Got it?"  
The man was dressed in business attire, nearly   
scared shitless. "Yes."  
"Good." J.D. reached inside the car, and the   
man moved back in his seat, terrified that J.D. would   
try to rob him or hurt him. Instead, J.D. pushed the   
cigarette lighter in and withdrew his arm from the   
inside of the car to pull out a Marlboro and place it   
loosely hanging from his lips. Cars zipped around   
them honking with tires screeching against the   
asphalt. J.D. reached back inside, withdrew the   
cigarette lighter and lit his cigarette without   
saying a word. He took a deep puff off the cigarette   
and released it out his nostrils like a dragon   
breathing fire and smoke. He looked at the man in the   
car, who was obviously uncomfortable and feared for   
his safety.  
"You can go now." With those words, the tires   
screeched as they struggled to take off at record   
speed, but before the car even moved an inch, J.D.   
tossed the cigarette lighter back inside the window,   
landing squarely in the man's lap. By that point, the   
car had already started going, and the man lost   
control of the vehicle. He swerved right into the   
high curb off the highway, and a car coming up the   
road in the right-hand lane smacked right into him.  
By time that happened, J.D. had already turned   
his back and continued crossing to the other side. He   
heard the accident piling up behind him, but he'd   
already experienced enough excitement, and witnessed   
enough handiwork for one day, so he kept going,   
unaffected by the ruckus in the background. He wanted   
to get home. No doubt there hadn't been some   
excitement at home too, excitement which centered   
around how his day had been at school.  
He walked in the house to see his mother   
watching television. She was engrossed in the news,   
some special report about a major accident on some   
major highway, and they were looking for a suspect,   
and all that shit. Didn't interest J.D. in the least.   
Why should it? He already knew who caused it. It was   
that asshole in the car who nearly killed him. He   
should have laid down in the road, let it look like   
an accident, and he could have scared the shit out of   
the driver with charges of vehicular manslaughter.   
His mother felt sorry for the poor bastard though.   
She was talking to herself about it, for Christ's   
sake!  
"Oh, isn't that awful."  
"Not really, Ma. I've seen worse."  
She jumped slightly. She hadn't heard him come   
in, but the look on her face indicated she had been   
anticipating his arrival for one of her infamous   
talks. Then, she started it without even saying   
hello. "What is wrong with you, Jason!"  
Ah, the school called. Expulsion. Suspension.   
He didn't care which. He had no intentions of going   
back anyway. This didn't matter to him. In fact, he   
thought of it as a gift, a blessing, but his mother   
saw things differently. She desperately wanted him to   
be normal, to be happy. She had one of her worried   
expressions on her face. He started thinking that   
maybe he should tone it down for a while. He couldn't   
stand to see her like this. He was going to have to   
calm down. For now. At least until they moved on to   
Texas.  
  



	3. The Slate is Clean: Texas

The Slate is Clean:  
Texas  
By Mary C. Paul  
  
He was thinking about them. He shouldn't have been,   
but he was thinking about them. This wasn't something he   
could ignore. He never could. He was an outcast. Even when   
he was normal, he was an outcast. He had tried being   
normal, he tried accepting the role of the outcast but even   
the other outcasts rejected him. All that effort and he was   
still an outcast. He just didn't fit in, and he was never   
in any one place long enough to work himself in somehow. He   
transcended outcast by now. He was the ultimate outsider.   
Standing on the sidewalk, watching life like a game from   
outside the fence, moving to another fence when he got   
bored with playing the invisible teen wherever he was.  
But why was he blaming himself for this? Why was he   
letting the fault lie inside him waiting to quake and   
swallow him from the inside out? Why did he let himself   
feel like the victim? He thought he knew better than this   
by now. He thought he had learned from the past, but if he   
had, why was he being consumed with this teen-angst   
bullshit. This was their fault! He couldn't blame himself.   
Nothing was wrong with him. They could all burn in hell! He   
didn't care. He was fooling himself thinking he cared what   
they thought. He couldn't have cared less if they hated   
him. He wasn't even sure they were capable of hating him.   
How could they hate? They didn't feel!  
On one hand, he shouldn't care, and on the other, he   
shouldn't pretend he didn't care either. His mother knew it   
was bothering him when she saw him come home from school   
Friday afternoon. He had slammed the door as hard as   
possible, and the first words out of his mouth were, "I   
hate everyone!"  
His mother had tried to remain the voice of reason,   
giving loving motherly advice. "Give it a chance, Jason.   
You'll learn to like the people here."  
"I hate everyone, because everyone hates me!"  
She had paused in wake of his obvious frustration   
manifesting. "Give it some time, Jason. Once you give them   
a chance, they'll give you one."  
"Ma, that is such optimistic, fairy-tale, TV-movie   
bullshit!"  
"No, it isn't. Look, you're pretty angry right now.   
You've got the whole weekend ahead of you. When you go back   
on Monday, you'll feel much different. This will pass."  
Well, it was Sunday, and he didn't feel any better.   
In fact, he spent the whole weekend making himself feel a   
whole lot worse. All those bitches and assholes deserved to   
burn, and J.D. deserved to toast marshmallows in the fire,   
light his cigarettes off the flames. He would live off   
their total annihilation. He didn't want to go into school   
tomorrow so he could feel intimidated, so he could be   
scared by all their cliques and groups, and their stares   
and isolation. He didn't want to be scared by that shit. He   
wanted to scare the shit out of them. Tomorrow, he was   
going to turn the tables. Tomorrow, he was going to start   
bringing a gun to school.  
  
  
  
******  
  
  
  
He was heading up the stairway, crowded by everyone   
else. No one seemed to notice he was there. They pushed   
past him. They rushed around him to get ahead of him. He   
was on the way to another boring class. He didn't care if   
he was late, and he didn't care if anyone else was either.   
All week he asserted the minimal amount of effort to blend   
in that his mother suggested. He smiled sometimes when he'd   
see people pass him. He'd say "hi" to a few people as he   
passed them, but they never smiled, waved, or greeted him   
back. Today, he tried something new. He dusted off his old   
trenchcoat and dyed his hair black, and broke out the   
earring. He was going to test what he had really learned,   
not just from them, but from her--not his mother, but her.  
He had forgotten what it felt like to be himself, to   
be real to let go. She was the only one who ever gave him   
advice that rang true, that stuck out as real with no fake   
bullshit. It was real, because she was real. Nothing about   
her was fake, and she was his real teacher. She was the one   
who told him that the extreme always seems to make an   
impression. Well, he was going to go the extreme, and test   
the limits of himself while doing it. He was determined to   
make an impression, but a different one than he was used   
to--not that this was the first time, but it was the first   
time on his own.  
He was really being stared at the way he looked now.   
He heard laughing as soon as he passed people in the halls,   
always behind him. It amused him. They hid behind his back.   
How could you hide from someone behind them? This was the   
kind of shit that blew his mind when he thought of the   
mediocrity of his generation, of the modern teenager, his   
would-be peers. They were all so weak, but tried so hard to   
be so strong, and in the process, losing sight of how they   
were acting so dumb. For example, the band of football   
players coming down the stairs now, acting like they were   
God's gift to the school, when any real person would see   
they were the school's curse. Without them, there would be   
civilization--society would not crumble--but there would be   
less date-rapes, less AIDS jokes, and a lot less prejudices   
around the school social scene. These guys seemed even less   
thrilled about him. They spied him and immediately crossed   
the stairway and stopped dead in front of him.  
This was the first conflict. At least, he was getting   
noticed, but if he was going to get this kind of attention,   
he might as well welcome trouble too. He thought if trouble   
was threatened enough by him to come looking for him, why   
not invite it in. He didn't bother trying to go around this   
guy, because he knew he wouldn't let him pass. Dickhead.   
Anyway, if he wanted a stand-off, J.D. would give it to   
him. He remained unfazed. This asshole was not going to get   
to him. The dickhead just stood there and smiled at him,   
then he opened his mouth, and J.D. couldn't wait to hear   
this because he knew that nothing but bullshit was going to   
pour out this guy's mouth.  
"Who the hell do you think you are?"  
"Who the hell do you think you are?" J.D. didn't   
hesitate, and he didn't budge an inch. This guy knew he   
wasn't afraid of him, so it was going to be his goal to   
make him afraid of him, because if he wasn't a bully, he   
wasn't anybody.  
"I'm the guy that did this." He shoved J.D. with all   
his strength, and knocked him down the flight of stairs.   
Just now, kids were stopping to watch the disturbance   
escalate into the brutal beating of the new kid, but little   
did they know. They didn't know J.D.  
J.D. gathered himself up off the ground, dusted   
himself off just as confidently as if he had tripped in an   
empty hallway. He wasn't sure where this power was coming   
from. He hadn't thought he had that kind of power and   
strength in him, but apparently some was surfacing for lack   
of a better method of dealing with this. "Oh, in that case,   
I must be the guy that did this." J.D. drew the hand gun   
out from the inside of his trench. The dickhead stumbled   
backwards as everyone else just screamed and fled to the   
nearest exits to any floor to escape the staircase. J.D.   
approached him, climbing just a few steps, and as soon as   
his brain caught up with him pissing his pants, the guy   
turned and fled up the stairs, following the last few by-  
standers out the door. J.D. replaced the gun in his trench,   
not thinking or caring about the repercussions of his   
actions. It was just a minor detail at this point. Mission   
accomplished. It worked.  
  
  
  
******  
  
  
  
It worked a little too well. Now he was home, walking   
in the door with his mother, who had just picked him up   
from school arrest at the principal's office. She was   
upset, but not mad-upset, more like worried-upset. As soon   
as he closed the door behind him, he felt this discussion   
coming on, and just as he predicted...  
"Jason, a gun is not what I meant when I said you   
should find ways to talk to people. It's the perfect way to   
go to get suspended for a week. You're lucky you weren't   
expelled."  
"Well, you said I needed time off. If that's true   
maybe I just need more than I thought. It doesn't matter   
anyway. As soon as Pop finishes this building, we're   
leaving again, right? Aren't we? Why should I try to blend   
in, if I'm gonna be yanked out of the picture soon anyway?"  
She sighed in bitter disgust, but it wasn't aimed at   
him. She was apparently blaming it on his father again. She   
felt nothing but pity for him, but there was nothing she   
could do, nothing she could say. She was helpless against   
the havoc this had wreaked on J.D.'s life. "This isn't the   
way I wanted things to be for you. You're my only son. I   
want to see you happy."  
"I wanna be happy, but it doesn't look like it's   
going to happen."  
"You shouldn't think like that. You're father used to   
think like that. It would really scare me if you grew up to   
be your father, Jason." She practically whispered the   
words, like she was afraid someone might hear them, like a   
warning to someone under enemy control to break free of   
their confines before they die a slave to them. "Have you   
tried talking to the girls here? Have you ever walked up to   
one of them, and just said hello?"  
"Ma, the girls here are different. I can't talk to   
them."  
"You need a girlfriend. Someone like Sandra. I liked   
Sandra."  
Her. He couldn't believe she mentioned her! "I liked   
Sandra too, Ma, but she was back in Pittsburgh. There will   
never be another one like Sandra."  
"How do you know that? I know Sandra was special, but   
there are other girls out there. She just wasn't the one."  
She was more than special. She was practically his   
mentor. She liberated him from all this teeny-bopper   
bullshit. He had needed direction, and she had one all her   
own. It had been the perfect relationship, but they both   
moved within days of each other. "What's your point, Ma?"   
He didn't want to think about this now, much less talk   
about it.  
"My point is there are better ways to handle boredom   
and loneliness than bringing a gun to school and pointing   
it at someone."  
"Ma, it wasn't even loaded."  
"That doesn't matter, Jason. Didn't you learn   
anything from this at all?" She sounded so hopeful that he   
had learned a lesson or that he wasn't falling into a trap   
she was all too familiar with thanks to his father.  
"Yeah, I did." He learned violence works, the extreme   
works, and if you intimidate someone, they're too scared   
shitless to intimidate you back. "Next time, the gun'll be   
loaded with blanks."  
"No. No! You are not going to load the gun with   
blanks, because blanks will turn into real bullets that   
much easier!" She lowered her voice, looked around as she   
massaged her temples with her fingers. She was in painful   
amounts of stress. "Jason, I want you to live a happy life.   
That's all I want for you. I want you to be happy, but   
you're just so unhappy here." She walked to the door very   
suddenly, passing right by J.D.  
"Ma, where are you going?"  
"I'll be back later. I'm going to see your father.   
He's down at the demolition site."  
He blinked and she was gone out the door already. He   
flew after her, but didn't see her anywhere. She must have   
really been anxious to get down there. He had no idea what   
she could have wanted from his father right now that   
couldn't wait. He walked all the way to the demolition   
site, and it wasn't until he arrived in the vicinity of his   
father's mobile office that he spotted her. She was engaged   
in a heated argument with his father. Nothing unusual. He   
was so used to this that he wished he could remember a time   
when this wasn't standard procedure around his house. He   
saw his mother look in his direction and spot him. He was   
too far away to hear words, but he heard screaming at this   
great distance. His mother pointed at him. She must have   
been sticking up for him again. His father hated the way   
his mother always stuck up for him. Maybe this was the   
famous he-deserves-better speech. That sounds about right.   
He should have realized that was what she was doing. If he   
had realized it, he would have stopped her from coming all   
the way down here and wasting time and energy. The man   
wouldn't listen to reason. The only thing she could combat   
that with was the irrational, and she wasn't very good at   
that. More yelling and shouting, causing a scene. These   
were the only times he wished he wasn't noticed. His mother   
pointed at the library his father was seconds away from   
demolishing, probably turning the argument to the exhausted   
subject of how his work was more important than his family.   
It was true and her words weren't going to change that   
either. His mother was growing more and more upset by the   
moment and finally in the middle of his father hollering at   
her, she walked away. She passed the demolition crew that   
was standing back and preparing to throw some switches, and   
came right up to J.D. He felt a chill travel up and down   
his back as he gazed into her tired eyes.  
"You are free to get away from this, Jason. I'm done   
here. The slate is clean."  
She started walking towards the library, turning her   
head in every direction as if she were making sure no one   
was following her. J.D. didn't know where she was going, or   
where he should go now. He watched her disappear around the   
corner in front of the demolition site. He was at a   
complete loss. His mother's voice had sounded so distant,   
so alien, like she wasn't even herself anymore. His facade   
had broken today--he broke through the illusion of   
contentment--so perhaps she had done the same. He felt the   
breeze blow through his hair and play with the tails of his   
trenchcoat as he stood in the perfect dusty haze of the   
day, waiting for the explosion to come. Since he was here,   
he might as well watch the fireworks. He never really cared   
about liking his father, but he loved his father's handy   
work. He looked up at the little library that was about to   
collapse, and quite by chance he caught a glimpse of a   
figure standing in the first floor window.  
It was his mother! She was inside the building. She   
was just standing there. She didn't even budge. Didn't she   
know that building was going to be demolished? They were   
throwing the switches--J.D. couldn't hear a pin drop across   
a room, but he heard those switches suddenly as clearly as   
he would have if he were flipping them himself. His body   
went into a severe state of alarm. "Ma! What the hell are   
you doing? Get outta there!" His mind was in the complete   
shock of panic and horror and fear mixing together and   
paralyzing his body, until all he could do was call out to   
her.  
Then, she waved at him. Very definitive. Very final.   
That was when it sunk in that she was inside on purpose.   
She knew the building was going to crush her, so why did he   
feel like he was being crushed? She knew what she was   
doing. He knew what he had to do, but he knew--in some   
terrible morbid part of himself--that he wasn't going to   
make it to save her, that she didn't want to be saved, that   
his father wouldn't notice she needed saving until she   
couldn't be saved, and that he wasn't sure if he would be   
doing her a favor by saving her--which was the most morbid   
thought. Instincts finally kicked in and he ran towards the   
building. "Mom!" His heart raced. "Mom!" His mind swirled.   
He came closer and closer. "No! God, don't do this to me!"   
He was so close. He felt he could reach his hand out for   
her to grab. "Mom, please!" He was still way too far away   
though. He was losing it. He was feeling too much to feel   
anything. He was acting on impulse. He was swirling in his   
mind. He was losing it. He was losing her.  
Boom.  
He was too late.  
  
  
(c) Mary Catherine Paul  
All Rights Reserved  
  



	4. The Extreme: Kansas

The Extreme: Kansas  
  
By: Mary Catherine Paul  
  
He opened the door to the gymnasium. He was immediately hit with a blast  
of music that made the floors and the walls vibrate. He skimmed the room with   
his eyes, taking one last look at all the dancing kids. The popular kids were   
all dancing and laughing, while everyone else watched and tried to be just as   
cool out on the dance floor. Then there were the true outcasts sitting on the   
bleachers in complete silence just staring at the other people having fun. Then   
there was him. He was truly unthrilled. Nobody cared about poor little J.D. in   
his long black coat with his Harley Davidson motorcycle.  
When they were in a big city, like when they were in Vegas, he found   
people he could relate to, and hang out with, but this--this was Kansas! There   
wasn't anyone even remotely like him, and there wasn't anyone he even remotely   
liked. He hated it here with everything in him. Most of the people were stuck-  
up, and the ones that weren't had attitude problems of their own. And then of   
course, there are the outcasts. Of course. He was beyond outcast here. All the   
wheat, the bitches, the jocks, the hicks, the rejected and dejected--there   
wasn't even a Snappy Snack Shack around for miles! There wasn't a single dick in   
the school that hadn't called him a fag or a freak. He had nothing here. He   
didn't even have a girl here.  
A few of the sexist jocks and their bitch-queens spotted him, and turned   
to each other to whisper. They were probably saying the same bull they had said   
to his face. Or maybe not, but who cared. It wouldn't matter soon, anyway.   
Nothing would matter soon. None of them would even be here in the minutes to   
come. There was something insanely comforting about that thought. A smile broke   
on his lips just thinking about it. He reached in his coat pocket and pulled out   
a cigarette. He put it in between his lips and reached back into his pocket for   
his zippo. He pulled it out and whipped it open, then lighted the wick. One of   
the chaperones, a teacher, saw the flame from across the room and approached   
J.D. "Young man, there's no smoking in the school and you know that. I'm afraid   
you're gonna have to take that outside." His voice was harsh and thick, but J.D.   
just widened his smile.  
"Dreadful etiquette, I apologize." He remained nonchalant and responded   
with that raspy voice of his, raising a single arched eyebrow indignantly.  
Suddenly, the music stopped and one of the lesser members of the coolest   
clique in the school took the microphone. "I just want to say how much we are   
going to miss Tony. He was the best guy in the whole school, and a hell of a   
football player. We'll all miss his face, his warmth, and his ability to make us   
all laugh. We'll miss you, Tony." At those words she stepped down from the stage   
and the D.J. pumped the music back up as if she hadn't said anything. He started   
thinking how incredibly delusional that girl was. Tony was an ugly dick--his   
dick being where he kept his brains--he constantly picked on everyone with his   
jock buddies who'd do anything to be like him, and the only laughs he ever   
created were at everyone else's expense, and to top it all off, everyone who was   
now trying to emulate him had been horribly beaten up by Tony at least once. The   
guy deserved to die, but J.D. never thought all Tony's victims would come out of   
the woodwork to pick up where he left off! It was like being in the Twilight   
Zone. At least he could take comfort in knowing that Tony was truly his first   
masterpiece. Poor suicidal Tony!  
That teacher was still staring at him, and it was distracting him from   
reveling in his moment of triumph. He came upstairs to enjoy this moment--these   
last moments. But this guy was bothering him now. "Take it outside!" His voice   
was harsher still, and he spoke the words through his clenched teeth in   
annoyance at this young man's lack of respect for authority.  
J.D. peered down at his watch, which the teacher could see was in counter   
mode, and had already counted close to six minutes. "Gladly." His tone was   
eerily enthusiastic. With the darkness of the room falling on his face and the   
already dark appearance and countenance he possessed, the form of a devilish   
trouble-maker took shape, and as he backed out of the doorway, the teacher   
watched as his silhouette faded into the pitch black hallway. The sound of the   
front door slamming behind J.D. filled the hallway, and by time it reached the   
gym doors, it had been drowned out by the thunderous beat of the music. But   
outside it was perfectly quiet, peaceful. The stars were shining in clusters by   
the hundreds, and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Well, that would change in a   
little under four minutes. It was a beautiful night for his first explosion.   
Ahh, his first self-made bomb, and bombing plan--his father would be proud of   
him.  
Of course, his father would never know it was his artwork. No one would   
even remember him tomorrow. They were leaving. Moving to some dump in the middle   
of nowhere named Sherwood, Ohio. Maybe he would see it on the news in the   
morning, maybe they'd even have it on the news in Ohio. Poor Middletown High   
School. That poor jerk--jock Tony. So full of hatred and anger, always beating   
up on people, and in the end he was repressed and dissatisfied. So much so that   
he planted a bomb at the school to go off at midnight just before the school   
dance was over, exacting some kind of revenge on those who "never understood   
him" or at least that's what he called them in his suicide note. Then tomorrow   
they'll find out how angry he really was at all of them. They'll find his second   
note about how he wanted revenge on them all for everything they had done to   
him--not that they had done anything to Tony, but J.D. thought it was   
appropriate and felt it rang true anyway. Who was going to care if it was his   
feelings or Tony's. The chicken-scratch that was Tony's handwriting was the   
same, so who cares if the feelings were J.D.'s. No one cares! That's the whole   
point here! That's what started this thing in the first place! Oh, well. Que   
sera sera. Tomorrow, everyone will hear about the poor dick who killed himself,   
and rigged a bomb to kill everyone in the school just before he jumped off the   
roof of the school that same morning. Poor Tony. What a psychopath!  
Well, J.D. could watch from here. He still had three minutes to kill   
anyway. He wanted to take one last look at the school the same way he had taken   
one last look at the oblivious teenagers inside. Kind of a before-and-after for   
his own personal memory. The school looked so quiet and all of the windows were   
dark. There wasn't even a breeze. The weather was nice and cool, and only   
minutes away from midnight. He was a bit chilly, but there would be a fire soon.   
Then, he'd be too hot. He didn't have to wear anything so heavy, but he loved   
this coat. He loved this idea, and this plan. Granted it wasn't a perfect plan,   
but this was going to be very good for him. Very. He never realized how easy it   
would be to kill--to sacrifice so many after the first one. He was saving these   
people from their destructiveness, protecting them from failing as a society. It   
was never supposed to be like this, but then again, they have nothing left to   
offer society anyway. So screw 'em. To hell with 'em all.  
He took another long puff off his cigarette, and suddenly, something moved   
out of the corner of his eye. He quickly glanced around, then realized there was   
movement inside one of the school windows. He looked up at each and every   
window, seeing nothing. He couldn't figure it out, but he was sure something had   
moved. He calmed himself down--he was a bit nervous, this being his first time   
and all, but it was getting easier the closer he got to the moment it will have   
been over and done. The point of no return. Whatever or whoever it was wouldn't   
be for much longer. It was nothing to concern himself with really.  
His pulse started racing as the two minute mark passed. It wouldn't be   
very long now. This was intense. This was extreme, and why shouldn't it have   
been--if he was going to go through with it at all, he was going to the extreme.   
That would get their attention. That would get everyone's attention! It would   
say something to all the people that ever dicked someone around, and he would be   
sending a message. Tony's death wasn't enough. Not even close! That wasn't   
intense enough. The extreme always seemed to make an impression. This was going   
to be one hell of an impression.  
J.D. peered up at a first floor window, and suddenly there it was,   
whoever it was. Someone was watching him, staring at him. He walked closer to   
the school, because he was a pretty safe distance away, and he wanted to see who   
the hell this person was. The figure didn't budge, it simply kept staring at   
him, and obviously knew what he was doing. If it was someone who was going to   
escape, try to stop him, or worse, warn the others inside, then he had to stop   
whoever it was from interfering. He stopped dead in his tracks a couple hundred   
feet away from the window itself. The cigarette dropped right out of his hand at   
the sight he beheld. His eyes widened in horror and fear as the figure became   
all too clear, a tall blond woman in the window, late-thirties, but it was   
impossible. It couldn't have been her--but it was. His heart stopped, like he   
was reliving it, and he had taken his father's place blowing up the building his   
mother had purposely walked into. He remembered every second of that past   
moment, every detail. She had smiled at him from that Library window, just as   
this woman was smiling now, and that was when the bomb went off that his father   
had set in the building to demolish it. It was a fresh wound. Texas had been   
right before Kansas, and the last thing he could handle right now was a repeat   
or a re-enactment of that bad memory. He tried to console himself for a minute.   
After all, it couldn't have been her. It couldn't have been! So it's not like   
this was of any significance. Just as he began to breathe easier, the woman   
waved at him. His mind went blank with terror and worry. That was the last thing   
she did before--That was her! He had to stop it before it got to the boom he   
remembered so vividly. That was what was next, and it was a little over a minute   
to that boom.  
He flew up the stairs, and into the building. He had to stop it. Jesus,   
these mothers deserved it--but his didn't. He had to stop the bomb, and that was   
the only thing that he could think of--not the mindless sheep in the gym, but   
the one moment that affected him like no other. It was taking forever for him to   
reach the door he had to go through to get to the maintenance stairwell. He   
bolted downstairs to the boiler room, and reached his hand out in front of him   
so he could get to the bomb that much sooner. The timer was in sight, and he   
aimed to hit the middle button. He hit the button with full force, practically   
thrusting all his weight on it. The timer stopped with four seconds remaining,   
and he let out a deep sigh of relief, and breathing heavily from running so   
fast.  
He slowly proceeded back up the stairs, and into the hall, feeling both   
relief and disappointment. These jerks and sluts deserved it! Now he'd have to   
hear about how they found a note telling how Tony had intended to blow up the   
school, but miraculously some unknown stranger saved them all from certain   
destruction. His first story was better--more entertaining, and definitely well-  
deserved. He was walking to the classroom, the one where he had seen her in the   
window. He opened the door, peeked inside, and as he had suspected--nothing. No   
one was there. He had a crazy idea that he could save her. That this was his   
chance to stop her from committing suicide, and she wasn't even there! He   
stopped it, he put everything on hold, and she was still dead, and had still   
abandoned him, and still haunted him. "Figures. I knew it was too good to be   
true."  
He walked outside, completely unthrilled, and very disappointed and upset.   
Very. He started walking away from the school, and towards his Harley. Right   
now, he just wanted to get the hell out of here. He hesitated a minute, and   
glared back at that same window, but she was still gone. It was still empty as   
it had been when he had walked into that same room less than a minute ago. He   
felt cheated--out of his revenge and having his mother back. He was really   
slipping. He was convinced it was real--that she was real! And now these   
teenagers would live and infect society with their nonsense and social status   
bull. Screw 'em. He was out of here anyway. On to Sherwood, Ohio. Maybe things   
would be different there. Maybe he could be happy there. Nah, he knew none of   
that was true. It would be the same thing over and over again. He never felt   
this different--like an outcast--until she died. That changed everything, and   
now it was changing even more than he had expected. He had to find more   
strength--build up his power, then he could finish what he started here tonight.   
Next time.  
He got on his bike, but before he started it up, he took one last look at   
that window. A good, hard stare. The memory flashed in his head for less than a   
second, but it hardened him that much more than it had the first time.   
Unfinished. Incomplete. An unquenched appetite for destruction. Next time.   
"Definitely." Only next time, he wanted to be with his mother. It was the only   
way he would ever really clean the slate. Next time, he wanted to be inside the   
building.  
  
  
  
(c) Mary Catherine Paul, 1999  
All Rights Reserved  
  



End file.
